Don't you hate it when people ask you how you've been when they really don't care at all how you've been? There are always people who do that. They ask you how you're doing passively while glancing over your shoulder, looking for someone else to talk to.
I always wondered how amusing it would be to totally be honest with someone like that.
"How are you?"
"I've been terrible!"
The look on their face might almost be worth it. Anyways, on with the point. I am going to pretend that everyone who is reading this just asked me "Hey Emma, how have you been?"
Well, this is my answer.....I've been great! I mean, not everything is sunshine and rainbows. I have been step-in mother of five this weekend, no way of transporting them to and from soccer practice, soccer games, choir, play rehearsal, etc. Cooking and cleaning and cleaning and cooking.....guys, appreciate your mothers. They've got their work cut out for them!
Yeah, it's been stressful but it also helps my relationship with my siblings alot. They seem to have much more respect for me when I am in charge, thus I can show them more affection when I'm not having to battle them for the upper-hand.
I have been absolutely splendid lately. I mean, this past week hasn't been without its downsides. I had a few strange days where all I wanted to do was get on a plane and go home, but moreover I had a really touching, encouraging week.
Last weekend was the Staff Retreat for Camp David, and it was not really retreat weather. It was cold. It was rainy. It was cold. It was windy. It was cold. It was cloudy. And it was cold.
But it was such a perfect time to be with people and to just huddle together in sweaters and steal each others' hats and just....talk.
I had so many wonderful, direly needed one-on-ones with people. Moonlit walks. Crazy capture the flag. I sang a Colbie Caillat song with Twila Grace in the talent show. We even played football (my football which many of you call "soccer") in the freezing cold rain and mud. It was worth it. Totally worth it.
But it was today that put my life into perspective big time. So here it goes.

There is a thing in Rolla called the Celebration of Nations, and it's a big festival that pretty much just celebrates the diversity in cultures due to the international students and I was asked to carry the Ivorian flag in the parade. It was a huge honor....it may seem silly to some people but to me it was like they were asking me to carry the torch at the Olympics. They need two people, one to hold the flag, one to hold the sign, and so I asked Austin, of course, and he said he didn't want to. So it ended up being Twila and I, and we got there at 9:00 a.m. like we were told....the parade didn't start until 11:00 and we were grouped into continents. So I got to spend 2 hours surrounded by guys from Benin, Congo, Botswana, Ghana, Senegal, Kenya, Nigeria and Ethiopia.
I got to sit and talk to them for two hours, speaking French, having them tell me how Ivorienne I sounded, talking about political problems, arguing with the Nigerian. They're just so accepting, so willing to just bring me into their African family that they've formed. They all were just so....so...African! There is no way to explain it. It felt like home again. They all called me "Petite Soeur." and then gave me the nickname "Ivory Coast" and invited me to play with them when they have "African Football Games" and invited me to watch English Premiere Leagues with them.
Like I said, I felt like I was home again. And I absolutely loved the way Twila took it all as an honor and a learning experience with grace and sweetness.
I can't even begin to explain the way my heart sang when I stood with that beautiful flag in my hands, looking out over the sea of people, all different colors, religions, languages, uniting as one people. My soul came alive at the sight of the dazzling, shifting kaleidescope of colors, the breeze pulling each banner out. It gave a whole new meaning to the part of the Revelation Song "Clothed in rainbows of living color".
I could see the pride in these students' faces as they raised their countries' symbol and honored their people, and all I wanted to do the same.
They are all so brave. They left everything they ever knew, everyone they ever loved to come to this place that is so cold, so intimidating and they have made a way for themselves, still relying on each other and reveling in the comfort of familiarity but never being afraid of this new world they've entered. But still, they don't lose that part of them that will always remain different from Americans. They don't lose their roots, the essence of their very spirit. They inspire me.
The whole world inspires me. If they can be so brave, so willing to just step out and risk it all for a college education, then I should be willing to step out and be brave for faith.
They make me want to be better. They make me want to be stronger, find the joys in life here. Find the joys in community here....but never lose that part of me. Because that is truly all my Africa-Emma is....it's just a small part of the Whole-Emma. There is so much more to me now, and so much more to come!
It's exciting, this new prospect. I mean, I have experiences here I never would have had otherwise.
Take Josh for example. He is the older brother I never had. (Of course, I have an older brother I adore) But Josh is honestly one of those people I really needed lately, and one of those people I never wanted to admit I needed. He is helping me understand this whole guy thing....something I never was very well versed in. And I never would have met him if I hadn't moved here.
If I hadn't moved here, I never would have gone to Camp, led those little girls to Christ, met those amazing people, grown in my faith.
If I hadn't moved here I never would have discovered the true meaning of family. Sometimes they are the only ones who will always be there for you.
If I hadn't moved here I wouldn't have met Twila. The girl who brings waffle batter and orange juice to your house at 7:00 a.m. and then comes home with you at 9:00 p.m. to do your dishes and fold your laundry then collapse in comfortable silence on the living room floor.
If I hadn't moved here, I wouldn't have grown. There are always going to be growing pains, and life is always going to hurt, sometimes it will hurt almost more than we can bear, but I know the heart of life is good.
Once again, disclaimer....I don't have it all figured out and I never, ever will. But for once, I think I am actually getting close to being at peace with the season I am in.

That's all from me tonight. It's time to actually get a bit of sleep.
Peace

So I have very little to write about. My mind hasn't been allowed to wander, I haven't had any life-changing experiences...Life has been decently mellow lately. No drama to report. I had my first photo shoot the other day, it went splendidly. It would seem I am designing and creating and taking pictures for a million people this week.
I took some time yesterday to go through some old journals and I decided I would post some of my entries from our trip home last spring.
So....enjoy.

Sunday, May 2nd, 2010Well, I'm on my way home for 6 weeks! It's not nearly long enough. It's been almost a year since I journaled...It's taken me a long time to be able to journal again, write again....live again. When we left Africa my world fell apart. Watching those gates close as we drove away, taking me away from all I knew and loved. If that wasn't heartbreak then I don't know what is! When we got to the States, my friends were not my friends, my life was not my life. In Grandma's dark house I was depressed. I watched TV, I ate food because it was there, I stared at the computer screen, blank. Words no longer obeyed me. They no longer made beautiful worlds for me to hide away in. A writed who runs out of words? It's like I lost EVERYTHING. I found no joy in life. I can hardly remember those months. But slowly the world got a bit more prominent and reality hit me hard. I spent the winter being angry but when spring came I decided to change. I got better at being happy. I found friends again, I found purpose and I felt okay. But now...Now I am so excited. I am ready to go home. But I'm scared. What if I get there and I don't belong any more? What if home isn't home? I don't belong in America, and if I don't belong in RCI...then where? Where do I go? And what if I do belong? What if I feel wonderful and amazing and then have to leave all over again? I don't want to feel that again. I can't. But then again, what if I get closure? What if I am able to move on? Do I really want the African part of my life to be over? So anyway we look at it, I get hurt. Like I got hurt so many times before. I am so torn. I don't want to repeat the process but I don't want to hurt anymore. I want to feel happy again.....we're getting ready to land....I guess we'll see.

Wednesday, May 5th, 2010

Okay, so it's time to unravel my feelings. I don't know...this place is perfect! When we got here I didn't get overjoyed or ecstatic. I just felt...right. Like, this is it. This is where I am supposed to be. Air so moist and sweet, it is the glue that put my hear back together again. Everything is green. Everything is thriving and alive. People, animals, cars, colors, smells, everywhere! And that night, in the thundering rain, I longed to leap into the past. I want my old life so, so badly it tore me to peices. I want my house with the jungle-like yard, my bedroom with the matress with the rusty springs and my red tile floor. I want my living room that was home to so many memories. I want my familiar kitchen and my terrace, the squeak of mom's bathroom door, the all-too normal knock at the gate. I want to go to church every sunday and teach those beautiful kids. I want to fell the drums reverberate in my chest. I want to sit at Elo's making croquettes, laughing at Lewis. I want to go to the market, I want to play football with Moussa and Abou. I want to see every single Harmatan sunset and I want to dance in every rain storm. I dont want to miss another semenair, I dont want to hear about Christmas, summer and sleep overs! I want it all back so much it makes me physically hurt. And I didn't know how much I needed Africa. I've been away from home for so long I almost forgot where I belong. Here I am, beautiful and whole again. Oh, I need to come home. I love Shelby and Brinley and Noel and Lea but I grew up with Elo and Carol, Jinan and Dalal, Moussa and Abou and Lewis. I know them and they know me. The real me. We are such deep, unshakable friends that a year apart has done nothing to mar our friendship.I love it here. I love every aspect of it. Even the bad parts only serve to illuminate and heighten the wonderful parts. Africa just fills me with passion. Passion for the world and for making a difference. I want to write, to paint, to sing, to dance. I love the people. I love the feel of their proximity, their hands in mine...this may sound naive but it feels like anything is possible here. It's never going to be the same, I know. And sometimes it makes me sick to think of it. But for now? Well for now, I am going to enjoy every teeny tiny second of it

Hope you enjoyed a glimpse into my trip home last year. It's all I've got for you for now. Goodnight Bloggers!
Peace

Yes, I know it's nearl 1:00 in the morning. I know I should be sleeping, considering I didn't get to sleep until nearly 4:00 a.m. yesterday but it is because I didn't get to sleep till 4:00 that I need to stay up late tonight and tell you what happened.
Okay, so yesterday was just an all-around bad day and I won't even go into it all. I was feeling extremely emotional and I honestly had no idea why. You know that feeling you have when you know that something is wrong but you don't exactly know what? Well, yeah, I hate that feeling. Because I can't fix something I don't understand.
So I get to Grandma and Pawpaw's at about midnight and I am so mad at Austin, and I don't know why. So I went inside and saw Pawpaw and started crying.
I sat inside with him for a long time, talking things out and still not feeling like I had hit the nail on the head. I was still confused, still angry about something, and I decided to go out to the driveway where he was sitting, it was about 1:45 by now. I sat down beside him, and I started talking to him. Really talking just like we used to. And I had a mid-crisis epiphany.
I asked him, I said:
"Why did you never take care of me? I was always taking care of everyone else and I always had to take care of myself. I always had to stick up for myself. I always had to comfort and lift myself up. You are the older one. You were the one who was supposed to love me and protect me. Why did you never take care of me?"
Ladies and gentleman, I have come to the almost embarassing conclusion. Me, Emily Suzanne Doris Jones, would like (and I would almost say "needs") someone to take care of her occasionally.
I want someone who worries about me. Who is protective of me. Who cares about me. It sounds so selfish, I know, but it's something I need every once and awhile. And it was always supposed to come from Austin.
He is my older brother. He is supposed to want to protect me and worry about me, and he never really has because I've always done it for myself.
Someone teases me (or him, for that fact) I take 'em down. Someone gropes me at a football game, I punch them in the face. Someone says something innapropriate, I stare them down.
It's always been that way, and I don't blame Austin at all. He told me straight up, he just never thought I needed/wanted anything from him. I always seemed to have it under control and he didn't even consider the fact that I might need help or comfort.
So we stayed up until 3:30 in the morning, talking it out. It was like old times. I told him what I needed. He apologized for not being there when I had needed him before. He promised to try. I promised not to expect the world from him.
It was so needed. I had felt us growing apart lately, and this conversation, no matter how hard it was to intiate, was so necessary.
And I had the epiphany. I know what has been hurting me lately, and now that I know what it is I can make my needs clear. I felt selfish for awhile, but I think it's perfectly normal for anyone to need a few things occasionally. It's normal for me to need a little help, someone to lean on. And I need someone who is willing to take the wheel for awhile and wants to make me feel loved and safe.
So while all this is going on, we kind of need comic relief and God provided it.
I am going to tell you all one last story that will either leave you dazed and confused or rolling on the ground laughing. My reaction was a bit of both.
While we were talking, we saw a car pull over under the street light on the highway right in front of us. Two girls in nothing but their under clothes got out and started dancing around to the music blaring from their car. They danced in the neighbor's yard, oblivious to our presence, for about a minute or two, then stumbled back into their car and left.
It was exactly what we needed to break the intensity of the situation. All in all, it was a horrible day turned wonderful. I feel so much better to have gotten it all off of my chest and into the open. Now I actually know what has been wrong with me lately and I can fix it.
If you're having problems with someone, I seriously suggest just talking it out. It helps. I promise.

I wish someone could answer all of the questions I have. I wish I didn't have so many questions. I wish I had easier questions. I wish I didn't have any questions at all!
It seems like there is never a time in life that I'm not battling hurt and pain and anger. There is always something that effects me negatively, and I have to constantly remind myself to count my blessings, enjoy the little things, smile...I don't think that's the way it is supposed to be!
I shouldn't have to fight to be happy! It shouldn't be a constant battle, it shouldn't be such a struggle for me to feel okay.
Of course there are days that I am honestly happy. I can forget about my troubles for awhile, but it all comes back so quickly.
For example, yesterday was a happy day. I got to spend the day wandering around the woods with a friend. I got wonderful news and I spent the evening at the park with people I haven't seen in forever. I got to have an amusing conversation turned deep with another good friend. I listened to Jack Johnson and Sarah Haze while watching my sisters dance. It was a wonderful day.

Then there was today. I found a letter from someone who shall remain nameless. It was an old letter from this person who has seriously hurt me and it was one of those same old apology-promise-excuses letter. You know the kind I'm talking about? The kind of letter that is full of "I'm sorry for..." "I promise I'll be better..." "It's only because..."
Well, needless to say, I got those letters dozens of times throughout my growing up years, and needless to say, the promises in those letters were always broken. The apologies were never enough. The excuses were the same every time.
So that brought up raw memories. It hurt. It still hurts. And I had to make a concious effort to throw that letter away and not dwell on the past.
Then, like an idiot, I decided to read some of my old journals. I was just organizing my books on my bookshelf and found them so I sat down to read. Bad idea.
It took me back to simpler times. Happier times. When a boy liked you he offered you a camel and you make up a fiance in the US and you're back to being best friends. It took me back to the time I knew exactly who I was.
And then the pity party started. I sat on my bedroom floor asking why. Why did I have to go through all of this? Why did I have to be the one who had to grow up so quickly? Why did I have to be the "strong" one?
And with every pity party comes the point where I have to decide to pull myself up by the bootstraps and suck it up. I have to make myself happy, and I have a happy ritual.
I play my music, I sit on the kitchen counter and look out the window and drink tea. It makes me relax, which makes me focus.

So I went through the motions again. Anger, sadness, getting over it. Same old motions I have been going through almost every day for 2 years now.
I know that life is full of heart ache and that I am never going to be 100% happy. I know there is always going to be some sadness, I know there is always going to be a struggle and I know that I am going to have to keep my head up and make a concious effort to be happy....but the truth it right now I am just tired.
I am exhausted with it all. I just don't want to hurt any more.

Ah yes, I've caught you on one of my nostalgic days. And what I tend to do when I am nostalgic is reminisce. So you're in for some possibly strange, most assuredly random memories that are special to me.

How about our last morning in Marrakesh? I remember waking up while the room was still grey, before the incense was even lit, and stumbling around in the half light searching for my camera.
You can't miss the sunrise on your last day! So I went out into the atrium and climbed up the stairs, past the little garden, all the way to the roof.
From the roof you could see the Jemaa el Fna, the shopkeepers beginning to stir, the grey of the woodsmoke beginning to drift up to mingle with the grey of the sky. I could see the complex strands of the medina twisting through this beautiful city, I could see all of the minarets jutting into the morning sky and to the east, over the mountains, I could see the red tinge of sunlight peeking up shyly. It always amazed me that a sunrise could look so shy and timid while a sunset was so bold.
Directly next to me through the laticed windows of his tower, I could see the Imam of the mosque next to us prepare for the call to prayer. He didn't see me, and I did not call attention to myself as I watched him. I saw the lights flicker on in the minarets of all of the city, and then it began with just one. I heard it, the song calling the city of Marrakesh to prayer.
One Allahu Akbar was followed by another then another until the cacaphony was ringing everywhere as the sun rose over the mountains to make the chilly morning a bit warmer. It was a magical moment, convicting me once more of this world's need for Christ. It's something I'll never forget.

I can't even decide what memories from Ivory Coast I want to share. All of those late night walks through the streets, laying out in the field to just watch the stars and revel in each others' company. All of those first rains when all inhibitions were forgotten and we all ran about, dancing in the streets, wallowing in the puddles, climbing through the trees.
Oh, the first rains...when the ground was so red, so dry, and the air was so thick with dust. The leaves would be orange with grime, the heat-waves from the streets would make the air dance and then you'd see it in the distance. Giant, rolling purple clouds flashing with white lightning, rumbling with promise. The wind would pick up and humidity would fill the air, making your dusty skin tingle with the promise of cool relief...and then it would happen. One drop would fall, leaving it impression in the dust, a little dark circle of hope. Down the rest of it would come, falling, pouring, torrential and beautiful, the most glorious music you have ever heard. It's a symphony of rain on tin and tile, of thunder and swishing trees, of wind and childrens' squeals. It turns the roads to bright red mud, it washes the leaves and makes them green again and brings the world to life once more.
I miss riding in the back of the Kia to the villages, singing and clapping and trying our best not to fly off the back. I miss the sheer joy of being with people who have nothing and still dance. I miss the sound, no not the sound, the feel of the drums. I miss all of those days sitting in the trees with Abou, laughing so hard I have to clutch the branches to keep from falling. I miss running and jumping and climbing with him, dancing and singing and laughing like the wild child that is still somewhere inside of me.
I miss merely walking with Moussa, his simple outlook on life and his ready smile keeping me grounded. I miss all of those days laying out in Dalal's yard, all of us together, the peices of my childhood coming perfectly together to form my present.
I miss working in the Clinic, feeling like I was contributing to the world. I miss the feeling of family I got with those people, my other mother, Nathalie, my Grandmama, my uncles like Maiga and Emmanuel, my brothers Eugene and Janvier...
I even miss seeing the sick, the dying, the mothers and children suffering from AIDS...it kept me grounded, it kept my perspective on life..it kept me grateful.
I miss the little things like the sound of a knock on our gate that, I miss the squeak of mom's bedroom door telling me it was time to actually sleep. I miss the simplicity. I miss the bittersweet feeling of being so blessed. I miss being able to find others to bless so easily.

Yes, I apologize if you're sick about hearing what I miss, but there is still some things to cover. What about childhood memories?
All of those times when life was so simple that not being able to find your favorite wooden sword was a crisis.
I remember all of those days Austin and I would spend with Miriam and Sylvia and Abakar and Abou, playing Lord of the Rings in the woods. I remember being the only white skinned, blond little girl amongst dozens of ebony faces and it not making a difference.
I remember all of those times we would find an old abandoned house and sit in the rafters eating papaya and passion fruit, hiding from any adult that walks by. I remember sitting in the mango trees, always having to jump down when we disturbed the fire ants.
I remember all of those fistfights I got in. Yes, I was a naughty child, but they were teasing Austin. Of course, he didn't care, but I did. I got my butt kicked more than once. a 7 year old scrawny girl against four or five 10 year old boys...it never ended well for me. Of course I didn't go down without giving a few bruises.
I remember the game we used to play during team meetings called Moon Monster...it had absolutely no plot, no rules and no way of winning or losing. It was great.
I remember going to Aunt Brenda's to play in the sandbox and make "amazing" castles, then going inside to watch Little Rascals and eat popcorn with actual butter!
I remember those little green seeds that hurt when you got hit by them, so obviously, what we would do, was throw them at each other. Makes sense, right?
Oh yes, and that one hut we built with trees and mud and palm branches...it actually stood for a long time. I miss club houses like that, a little place that seems simply magic to you.

Wow....lots of reminiscing going on. I told you. I am nostalgic. I apologize, normally I would just journal these things but I thought I would share. It never hurts to know the inconsequential details of one's past....it never really does any good either. Those were amazing memories, they will be with me forever, they will always make me smile....but they're in the past and I don't want to focus on them anymore than I have to. I want to make new ones to think about in the future. What is life without its random moments of idyllic simplicity?

The restlessness is setting in again. I can't sit still. I find myself pacing. I find myself sitting on the porch in the middle of the night watching a lightning storm. It's making me crazy.
The color green, the feel of grass, the smell of sandal wood, the sound of an airplane or of running water...they all make me go crazy.
I just want find a field and run, to find a tree and climb, to get in the car and drive until the road ends. There is something inside of me that refuses to settle down, and to be honest, it's making me crazy.
I am tired of living the immature life expected of someone my age. I am sick of dealing with silly teenage romances and silly teenage dramas...I want something serious. I want something real. Do you ever feel like you're in a phase in your life that you just want to get out of? I am done with the mundane teenage years of my life.
It's not easy, being different from everyone my age. It's not easy always being the grown up one. It's not easy being the one who is always single because I don't throw myself away on any little childish romance that comes my way.
It's hard. But in away it's better. Because I don't really want to be like everyone else. I really, really don't. There is nothing in me that wants to conform, but it's not easy. It's not easy feeling like you're always on the outside of that circle. It's hard to make the decision to be the outcast. It's a constant fight, but it's one of those fights I refuse to lose.

So today, I was at this pool party and I was feeling that sort of caged feeling I get when I am around people my age. So I decided to leave. Yes, I had my phone and ipod and yes the chances of a down pour were at about 100%, but I couldn't stand it, so I left.
And I got about two minutes into my 15 minute walk and it started raining. And honestly, it was just what I needed. I danced in the rain in the middle of the street. Yes...yes I did. Yes, people thought I was crazy. (I am....shh, don't tell!) I needed to just let go of all of those negative thoughts and just...be.
It was glorious. Half of the sky was a deep, deep purple-black flashing with forks of lightning while the sky behind me was an almost heavenly shimmering gold. In between them was a striking rainbow, so I just climbed to the top of a hill, wrapped my ipod and phone in a towel and watched the sunset in the pouring rain.
It was what I needed. Just a little time to myself. I don't need it to get easier. A very wise man told me that we don't want the burden of being different to get easier, because once it does, we become numb and loose our individuality. It's an epiphany I had today. I don't want it to get easier, because a life of ease is not what we were promised if we want to follow Christ. We were promised hardship and pain and sorrow but we also get joy. And a lot of time, joy does not mean happiness. So yes, epiphany. And you all know what happens when Emma has an epiphany or an emotional moment....yes...poetry is the outcome. More like a prose, because it never really rhymes. Oh and by the way, it's quite a leap for me to share poetry, so feel honored.

It Doesn't Get Easier

It doesn't get easier
The old pain is still there
The dull pounding ache
That makes you lie awake
Sometimes life isn't fair
And it doesn't get easier

It doesn't get easier.
When you're the only one
I try so hard to stay the same
While they play all of their silly games
Sometimes life just isn't fun
And it doesn't get easier.

It doesn't get easier.
When you're always on your own
Others will find a hand to hold
Sitting by yourself really gets old
Sometimes in life you feel alone
And it doesn't get easier.

It doesn't get easier.
When they all work for selfish gain
I see people dying every day
Never seeing light, finding their way
Sometimes this life is full of pain
And it doesn't get easier.

It doesn't get easier.
When you're the only one who sees what's true
When you feel the strong desire to go
When others don't even seem to know!
Sometimes this life just isn't meant for you
And it doesn't get easier.

It doesn't get easier.
But do you want ease to come?
To just forget the world and all the sorrow?
To live today and forget tomorrow?
It is better to ache than to be numb
I hope it won't get easier.

It doesn't get easier.
This world is falling to its knees
It's time to act, to answer The Call
I'll give You everything...I'll give it all!
Lord I beg you, I beg you please...
....Don't let it get easier.

Hope you enjoyed the ramblings of a caffeinated and confused young blogger.

Okay, ladies and gentlemen...I am back.
Camp David is over for the summer. It's really bittersweet, actually. Camp was amazing this summer, but the ties that I have with the people there are so much stronger that I don't have to worry about losing contact. I am definitely looking forward to spending much more time with all of them.

I was wondering during one of the weeks why on earth was I doing what I was doing? I was a counselor, I was going crazy.
I didn't know how much longer I could handle my campers. They were the seven and eight year olds, we were stuck in the tent because there weren't enough cabins.
I was sleeping on the floor, the campers were the whiniest, neediest kids I had ever had to deal with, the tent was a sauna during the day and a haven for every loud bug you can imagine at night.
I remeber one night Twila (my co-counselor) and I were sleeping and I woke up with one of the girls who was cryin and noticed lightening. Well....this was an old tent with holes in it. Yeah....it rained. Hard. The tent flooded, the girls were screaming, everything was soaking wet, we had to run up to the big building and sleep up there. It was insanity, the next morning everything was wet and jumbled in a pile.....I was about ready to lose it.
I just kept asking "God...just a little more patience. Please. Just a little more grace. Just a little more strenght." I was about to lose it on thursday, and I was standing with Austin, talking to him, on the verge of tears. I was asking him why I was even here, I felt like I wasn't getting through to the girls, I felt like I was wasting my time.....and that day one of my beautiful little girls decided she wanted to get baptized.
She struggled with anger and bitterness and unhappiness, she had cried with me the night before about her broken life....and she is only nine. My heart went out to her and all of my campers and I just wanted them to be happy....I wanted to pour out my love and God's love on them. So we talked about Jesus and His promise for us and she asked to get baptized.
The next day we watched her beaming as Ben asked her who God was to her and dipped her in the water. As she was pulled out of the water, clean and pure with a beautiful smile on her little face, I turned to Austin and said
"This is what makes it all worth it"
And he just smiled and nodded. Then my camper came to me, sopping wet, and hugged me, tears in her eyes and she said "I feel so happy now. God is making me better."
This, my friends, is why I do what I do. Seeing God work in a broken life...it's the best thing in the world.

And speaking of God fixing broken lives....He has taught me a hard lesson this year. It's a time for me to be still. I do not like being still. I need to move. I need to go. I need to do. I need to see. If I am not moving, going, doing, seeing then I go crazy.
But there is a time in all of our lives when we need to just be still and stay where we are.
Being still isn't just about staying where you are, it's about preparing for where you are going.
And right now I need to stop moving, I need to be quiet and listen for God's plan for me.
I can't quite "do" when I have no idea what I am supposed to be doing, now can I? It's a hard thing to learn. I don't like it. I don't like having to just let my life be normal. And I would say it's boring but I think God has given me a little gift.
I am not bored. I am finding true delight in the little things. Getting lost on our way to the float trip, I had a blast because I chose to.
I found absolute joy in floating down a river with dear friends, climbing trees and crawling through dark caves, just being alive. I even forced myself to take a middle seat in a canoe with two friends and just let them take control while I did nothing.
There is something glorious in the air....something grand at work here. And I think I know what it is. It's God's promise of something bigger, something better on it's way if I only stay still and wait.
Good things come to those who wait, right? So this is me, being patient, being still....being happy. I've forgotten how amazing it is to just find joy in something as miniscule as being barefoot in the grass or watching the birds or sitting and talking with someone dear to me.
Ever since we came here I have been constantly looking for the "more" and missing the "enough" that God was giving to me as a gift every single day.
Here I am. Being happy to just be. And I am not saying it's going to be easy. I am not saying that I am not going to have my days of disapointment and discontentment but I am going to fight for it. Because it's a fight I want to win, and those of you who know me know that I don't lose what is important to me.
Life is amazing no matter where you are as long as you choose to see the glorious aspects and learn from the not-so-glorious ones.
Something big is coming for me. I just have to wait for it. Prepare for it. Listen for His will.

Okay, so something strange happened with the photos I posted. They're all distorted. I think my computer hates me. So sorry about that. If you really actually want to see them, just click on it and it'll come up clearer. Forgive my technological disabilities.

Forewarning: This isn't going to have a positive outcome. This post isn't going to be about something I learned. I didn't have an "Aha" moment. I didn't get a life-lesson. I'm not going to be optimistic today because to be honest.....today....I am hurting.
I thought I was done with feeling like this. I thought that ache that works its way through every facet of my soul until I can't breathe was gone.
Maybe....just maybe I was free from it. But this week has been so hard.
Let me give you some back ground. I am at the CMF Furlough Retreat. A retreat for furloughing missionaries here in Indianna...and they asked me to help with the children's program.
I was worried about how it would feel. Instead of being the MK, I was the one teaching them. I thought, "Oh, this will be fine. I will be giving back. After all I always appreciated my teachers." but then I got my name tag. And it said "Emma Jones. Teacher."
And it broke my heart. It was like one last kick in the gut. The final nail in the coffin. I wanted so badly for it to say "Emma Jones. Ivory Coast."
I wanted to be able to sit with all of the other missionaries and feel that common bond. I wanted it all to be the way it was.
But it's not.
I am the outsider. The odd one out....again. And it hurts so much.....too much. I want to go home. I want to go back to where I felt like I was 100% myself. I want to be with the people who know me better than anyone. I want to be able to walk over to my best friend's house and sit in her yard for hours eating mangoes and talking about nothing and everything.
I want to feel okay again. I feel like if I remake my identity....if I redefine who I am then I will lose who I was. I'll lose my roots. My old life. The thing that defined me for so long.
Sometimes I look at my necklace....the one that says "Afrika Gurl" and I feel like I am a hypocrite. And I *hate* it! I want it to be true again. I can't stand going home like I am visiting. I can't stand the way things change and I can't be a part of it. I hate feeling so jealous of those who get to be there when I can't. I hate feeling homesick for a home I can never have again. I hate it!
It's all fading. The memories and becoming a blur. I couldn't remember what Abou looked like....and he was one of my best friends in the world. I couldn't remember what nickname Dalal used to call me. And I feel so, so guilty all of the time. Like I am letting them down.
My heart is breaking. Janvier died and I couldn't even go to his funeral. Elo passed her BAC and I couldn't be there to celebrate. Every year another Christmas comes and goes and I can't stay up till all hours dancing with them.
I can't have that life anymore but I can't let go. It hurts too much to let go. It hurts too much to hold on. I just *hurt* all of the time and I feel so alone all of the time.
Don't get me wrong, I have friends here and they are amazing people but...they all grew up together. Their parents have game nights together and double dates. They knew each other in kindergarten. No matter how long I am here, no matter how close we get....we'll never have that bond. I will *always* be the new kid. I will always be a little less important. A little less well known. And I don't have the option of having friends like that anymore.
I left all of those people behind. And I can't even go see them. I think the fact that the summer is ending and the reality of me not being able to go home is sinking in.
I just need to see them again. I need to know that they're still there and that I can still slip right back in with them....but I am so scared. What is going to happen when one day I go back and they are all married with kids...when Grandmama is dead and buried, when people I don't know are working in the Clinic, when those little kids I taught are all grown up....what happens when home doesn't feel like home anymore?
What am I supposed to do then? I know God never gives you things you can't handle but.....I don't know *how* to handle this.
I can't make the hurt stop no matter what I do.

God is amazing. I was sitting at Camp, having a deep discussion time in the field at night with some absolutely amazing people and the stars....oh my goodness, the stars!
The stars were absolutely breathtaking. I haven't seen stars like that since we camped at Fisherman's Camp above Lake Naivasha in Kenya.
They were so close, like you could touch them, watching you coolly. When I was younger I used to think that the angels had poked holes in the floor of heaven to watch over us....I still like to think it's true.
Sitting there, the wind cool, the air warm, amazing people surrounding me, I just laid back and watched the stars, saw two shooting stars, watched the yellow-green glow of the fireflies dancing in the trees.
Nostalgic. Idyllic. Words I haven't been able to use in a while. They apply when you're at Camp. It still amazes me how God can use my servitude to serve me.

And speaking of serving God......I have a confession to make.
Serving God is something I have always longed to do. I was ready and willing to do His work....but I always wanted to serve God in my own way. The promise I made was always "God, Your will be done as long as I will it too"
I am good at fooling myself. Really, really good at it. I used to think of it as self-preservation thing. So I fooled myself into thinking that MY dream was actually GOD'S dream.

My Plan:
I was going to decide what skill I needed. Be it teacher, EMT, etc. I was going to find the perfect man, start a family, raise support, load up and move to Morocco or India or Ethiopia and start a mission. Change lives. Settle in one place, raise my kids the way I was raised. End up like those amazing elderly missionary couples like Wayne and Greta, still living and serving in a foreign country they call home.
That was the dream. Sounds pretty great, huh? Doing what I love. Loving what I do. Serving God.......nope.
God got to show his "sense of humor" and completely flip my dream upside down.

God's Plan:
I am going to get my degree as a photojournalist and I am going to find some mission or something like that to work for. I am going to travel all over the place. War-torn countries, natural disaster sites, slums, famine-struck villages, clinics over-run with AIDS victims, countries left in the dark....I will go to them all.
I will tell the stories of every woman who was beaten and raped and left to die with no justice. I will tell the stories of the little hungry children with bloated bellies and tears in their eyes. I will tell the stories of every man, woman and child persecuted for loving Christ and still dance and sing because they are saved. I might not get married. I might not be able to have a family. I may not be able to settle down and form a home......

I get it. It's perfect for me. I have the experience and the confidence to travel alone. I have the restless soul that longs to see it all. I have the gift of photography and writing.....and living in the US really does make me see the need for someone to spread the word.
The people of America have tried to make this country a "safe haven" where you don't have to hear about the reality of this world if you don't want to. If you want to know about "bad things" then you had to go looking for them. They only knew statistics.
In the words of Stalin (who I don't normally quote) "The death of one man is a tragedy, the death of thousands is merely a statistic"
And unfortunately, this has become true. These people give $15 to a number every month when their tithe is due....They never see the faces. They never learn names. They never hear the stories.
So it's my job to raise awareness. Ignorance is *not* bliss anymore.
It's time to show them what the real world is like. But still.....sometimes I would rather just settle in one place, work with one people group, learn one language, form long-term relationships.....
Where am I going to find a guy who wants to just wander around the globe, often-times be hungry, be threatened, be in danger.....honestly, I think I am great and all but not *that* great.
So there is the lonliness factor I'll have to deal with. And lonliness is one of the strongest emotions you will ever feel.
It's scary. It's thrilling. It's amazing. It's a done deal. I have no say in the matter.
I made the promise, didn't I? I said "Send me....I'll go."
So this is Him sending me. So this is me going. Willingly....reluctantly. It's funny, the mix of emotions I feel. I have a hard time with authority, and lately I have been challenging God's. O_O bad thing to do, I know.
So that is my job this summer. I need to learn to let go of my own feelings. Let Him take control. It's not easy to surrender my life when I have been fighting for every inch I have for years.
So this is me. This is my plan...His plan.....OUR plan.

First official week of Camp David...and oh what a week it was! It was a bit of a change, starting out as a counselor. Counseling is much, much more stressful than many things I have done before. It's extremely challenging but so, so rewarding. Still, it's a little better to start the year off with something a little less strenuous.

It was amazing, coming back to Camp for the second year. Not only did I fit right back in to the Staff family, but I had so many relationships already formed with returning campers. It was an awesome feeling.
I was super surprised at myself this week, to be honest. I had a couple of difficult campers, several hard counseling moments but for some reason, I remained completely calm throughout all of the problems. In fact, I remained even more than calm. I was happy. All week long, no matter what was happening, no matter how many problems I had, I was happy.
It was so weird, because I haven't felt that....that peaceful...in such a long time. If any of you read my last post, about wanting to be able to break down every wall I had left and love fully then you will know what I am talking about.
I think I did it. I think I broke down my walls. Everyone always says that someday a special person will come along and tear down your barriers, well guess what world....it doesn't take a "special person"....it just takes you. It takes your decision, your will-power, your longing to feel that sort of joy again.
I found the will-power in others. These girls I am working for come from some harsh backgrounds. They each have one or both parents in prison, they are being raised by single parents, family members or foster homes, many of them have been abused physically and emotionally...they need me as a mentor and friend, but they need Christ more and what more am I than Christ's hands and feet?
So I pulled my strength from that source. They needed every ounce of love that I could muster, and I gave it all. Every time I thought I couldn't love any more, my heart was like the Widow's Oil....I had so much more than I could ever use!
My soul kept filling and overflowing, filling again, like it never ends. And I don't want it to end. No matter how late the girls stayed up giggling, no matter how many times their pain and anger came out in attitude and lashing out towards me, no matter how many times I had get out of bed to kill a spider so that the earsplitting screaming would stop, I felt happy and I have missed that feeling.

Now it's time to go to sleep. I was given the....privilege....of taking the girls back to St. Louis on the bus. 21 girls....all their bags....4 pee stops....it took from 9:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m.
Sleep is a necessity. I can't wait to start all over again on Monday!

I don't know what's wrong with me today. I have been fine. I went to Staff Training this past week for Camp David and it was great. I got excited for Camp, I got fired up, I even shared my testimony, as terrifying as it was to expose myself to that many people like that. I am really glad I did though. The response was wonderful. I found out that so many people had almost the same story and no one seemed to change the way they thought of me.
It is so amazing to have people like that in my life. People who will stand by me no matter what.
Anyways, it was a wonderful week. I got to catch up with good friends, meet new people and get closer to some others. The training is very thourough, if a little monotonous, but it is really great. It has prepared me quite a bit for the Summer. Last summer was just so crazy and I was so new. This year I really know what I am supposed to be doing, so I hope it goes even better.
The last night we played capture the flag and it was one intense game, though my ribs suffered quite a bit from incessant tackling.
We went to bed at 12:45 and I didn't get to sleep until 1:15-ish. I was unaware that the schedule for the morning was back an hour so we could sleep and I woke up at 5:45 to get ready.........needless to say, I was exhausted. I am surprised I stayed awake for 6 hours of CPR/First Aid training which I am also really glad I could learn.
So all in all it was a good week. But I am afraid it's going to get bad here soon. There is a wall that everyone hits every year or so where they just don't think they can go any further and I am about to hit that wall.
It's really bad timing. Last year I hit the wall *before* Camp...this year however......
It seemed to start this morning at the Rolla Sasquatch-cestenial/Summerfest.
I don't know what I was feeling, but all of the sudden I panicked. Was I going to be here the rest of my life? What if the college I am considering doesn't work out? What if God has other plans for me that like it or not I have to follow? What if I marry an accountant and bake pies and drive my constantly texting, brand-name wearing middle-class American kids to soccer and cheerleading practice? I can't live like this! But what if I have to? What if there is no other choice?
You have no idea how painful it is to know that every single day I am here, I am feeling farther and farther away from my people in Africa, from the person I am striving to become. I *need* to get home this summer, but it's not going to happen, and that breaks my heart. I want to go home and feel like my old self for a little while.
I need to at least go somewhere. I need to see a new sight. Hear a new language. Feel a different atmosphere. I am the only sedentary rogue gypsy I know of!!
The point of being a Rogue Gypsy is to travel even farther off the "normal" path than normal "gypsies" do. And yet here I am in Rolla, Missouri, watching the parade and looking at old cars.
It's good for awhile. But the thing is, I am beginning to like it. I am beginning to get a feel for this whole small town life. I like knowing people everywhere I go. I like the spring turning into summer. I like the idea of being able to walk to the library, of having family near. But I don't want to like it! I like this life but I LOVE traveling, adventuring in the unknown, helping the needy people of the world. I know that if it comes down to either staying here or taking an opportunity to help elsewhere, I would go somewhere else at the drop of a hat. And I don't want to get close to anyone anymore. I always love them too much and I know the pain of having to leave an entire life I have built....and I don't want to ever have to do that again.
I don't want to be the one who loves so much. It hurts too much! But it is a kind of pain I have to live with. Because I also know the pain of living without it. the pain of pushing people away because if I love them then they will end up leaving me or I them. And let me tell you, the pain of living without loving is so much worse.
I have to fight the tendancy every day to push my loved ones away, to shut them out because love hurts. It hurts so much, but I can't help it.
Sometimes I think the people closest to me think that I am a little cold, a little aloof and a lot of the time I am. I try not to be, but I am tired of getting hurt. I just really wish they could get a glimpse into my mind and see that I love them. I love everyone in my life so much.....(ok, so not *everyone* but you know what I mean) and I want them to know that. I love hearing and saying the words "I love you" and them being honest. I love getting and giving genuine hugs. I love feeling loved and appreciated. I really do. Not excessively, but to a certain extent....everyone does. Remember that, because I am going to try to.

I always feel so much better after writing things out. I start out with a problem and end with a solution. I am going to try my best to make every day count. I am not going to wait for someone else to break down my walls. I am taking a sledge hammer to them myself. Every day might be the last day I have to tell my mom how much I appreciate and respect her. My last chance to tell my sisters that they are the most beautiful things God has ever created. My last chance to thank my Grandpa for making my life joyful on a daily basis....to tell Austin how much he means to me as a friend and a brother....to make my life count for something bigger than myself.
And that starts with Camp. Did I take on too much? Yes. Yes I did, and I am willing to accept that. But this is my chance to start living out love.
Odds are I will get hurt many, many times. But the ratio of the pain to the joy will be so outstandingly worth it! Please be praying for me these next few weeks as I try to just open up the flood gates and let every ounce of my love pour out onto my friends and family and these Campers I was put in Rolla to serve.
Goodnight to all of you bloggers out there.

Here I am sitting in my little room eating chocolate lava cake and homemade ice cream.....Life is just too hard! But these are my last few hours in luxury. Come 7:00 o'clock, Camp David of the Ozarks officially owns my entire summer. (well, almost, anyways)
Am I excited? Of course I am. I love it at Camp. Camp was pretty much the saving grace that kept me from drowning last year. If I had thought of blogging earlier, you would probably have been sick with my gushing of how wonderful it is, and how fun it is, and how close to God I was, and how fun the people were...etc. etc. etc. But....here is the catch.
I'm exhausted.
There is nothing else to it. It's been a stressful year with most of the stress piling on these last few months and I just don't feel like doing this now.
I know I will change my mind when I get there, with all of the awesome people and the excitement of doing something important. I am going to have an absolute blast this summer. And I love what CDO stands for, and what they do.
It's not like a church camp that rich little kids attend just to find their boyfriend or girlfriend of the week. It's a real ministry towards kids who really need it and it feels good to be doing something missions related again.
I am the first to admit that if I stayed home this summer I would be running around doing a million and one stupid things to entertain myself, not making a difference anywhere. So I am ready for Camp.
I am just going to miss my family alot. Believe it or not, I really like them (most of them anyways!)

So this is the last time I am going to be on for a while. I'll try to get you some up-dates over the weekend. So....Gypsy out.

Yesterday:So yesterday was the Lebanon Spring Formal, put on by the very large and quite amazing Lebanon homeschool group. Since we have wonderful friends up there (we being Austin and I)and since we poor little homeschooled children have no opportunities to dress up all fancy for prom or homecoming, we decided to go. I am not a primping girl who likes to dress up. Cargo pants and a t-shirt are my best friend. It takes me five minutes to get ready in the morning. But when I put on that pretty little green dress and those pretty little pearls and mom put my hair up with a pretty little flower....I liked it. It's a good feeling, feeling beautiful and elegant. It doesn't happen that often. Don't get me wrong, I am not one of those girls who is always whining about how "ugly" I am. I honestly never think about it. I don't think, "Gee golly am I gorgeous" and I don't think "Oh I'm so hideous" when I look in the mirror. I just think, "Hey look, it's me."Anyways, back to the whole dance thing. We took Shelby with us (for those of you who don't know her, she's my American best friend.)We went to this park where we took pictures with all those beautiful people who I have grown to love. It's amazing how far I have come from that girl who hated everything and everyone in America. Now I stood in a group of these wonderful, fun, loving people who share a mutual passion for God's world and I felt like I fit in with them. We all took pictures together and for the poor girls in the light dresses and shawls, it was freezing. It is not supposed to be this cold in May. The guys, however, were fine in their suits and tuxes. But we got our revenge on them when we got the the dance though. It was an English Country Dance, which basically means we danced old Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice dances. It sounds geeky but it is so much fun. I've gotten addicted to it. We have one in Rolla every month. It's funny, because dancing these dances can make even the most uncoordinated oafs (like myself) look graceful. It was so hot in the building and with all of the skipping and whirling and twirling, I warmed up quickly. So I wasn't asked to dance at one point, and I thought it was a dance I didn't particularly like so I sat down only to hear them announce the Virginia Reel. Ok...that is my absolute second favorite! So I got up and searched for someone. All of my male friends were dancing. So I went to the doorway where all of the silly boys were standing against the wall, looking all cool, and forced one of them, Zech, to dance with me. The Virginia Reel is *so* much fun if you dance with the right person, and Zech was definitely the right person! There are always these really serious chaps who feel like they are Mr. Darcy or something and say things like "Might I maintain eye contact with you throughout the dance?" or "I must lead you off of the dance floor, Miss."They're no fun. Zech was fun. And tall. I am always taller than everyone. The dance didn't end until 11:00 then we went to Sonic and left for home at midnight. Didn't get home till one. It was so worth it though. It was the perfect night. I am so glad to have that opportunity and the moment I get pictures, they'll go up.

Today:So today wasn't that interesting compared to yesterday. I had a headache and a small fever so I wasn't in the best mood ever. But there is one thing I feel like I need to share about today. There was a soldier named Bradley Melton who was killed in the line of duty in Afghanistan and he was a resident of Rolla. His body was brought home today, and the entire town came out to line the streets and wave flags to honor his return. As the procession passed I saw a veteran with tears in his eyes and a hand over his heart, I saw a man in military fatigues saluting, and I remembered why I am proud of the flag that was being waved all along the highway. I am not always proud of what America stands for but I am always proud of who stands for America and I feel blessed to have uncles and grandfathers who serve and have served this country because they have the utmost sense of honor and duty. I am honored to be protected by them and I respect each and every one of them. And I think everyone should feel that way. Did you know that there are men and women from a church- A CHURCH!- coming down to protest the funeral on Tuesday??? They are saying that God killed him because he hates soldiers and that this man is going to Hell. I hate that...I HATE that! How could they be so cruel as to say such evil things at the funeral of a man who died serving them?! And in the name of Christ! If you ask me which one reflects our Savior- the One who served us and died for us- more, it would be this soldier and *not* those horrible, despicable "Christians".It makes me so angry that people would be so inconsiderate to put a family who is already in agony through any more pain. If they do show up, I have half a mind to join those bikers who guard the funeral from protestors. I just don't understand the hatred and the brokenness of this world. This day has been an emotional one in many ways. My last words for the day....Rest in peace, Bradley Melton. I am thankful for your service. I am sorry that others do not appreciate it....Forgive them for they know not what they do.

I feel the need to write something. I started writing about the fact that today is a bad day and I really want to go home and how I want to hold on to the pain because I want to hold on to the African essence of me, etc. But then I decided that I didn't want to be that pathetic blogger who is always whining and sobbing over things. No one wants to read that all of the time. So this is what you get today. My Wish List#1- I wish I was technologically savvy. I hate having *no* idea what I am doing. #2- I wish my eyes were greener. #3- I want a wombat and an elephant, and a peacock. #4- I really want to get published#5- It's my dream to play Eponine on Broadway...or at least somewhere. #6- I want to travel everywhere. #7- I wish I could work for National Geographic #8- since 7 won't really work out, I want to be a photojournalist with a mission. I want to show the "modern world" the real world. #10- I want to have coffee with Tolkein, Lewis, Poe and Barbara Streissand#11- I want coffee in general#12- I wish I had an Irish accent. Or a man with an Irish accent.#13- I want to learn how to fly a plane. Or at least have a man who can fly a plane. ;)#14- I wish I could eat anything and lose weight in the process. #15- I really want attieke right now. >_<#16- I wish I could end poverty, find a cure for AIDS and cancer and heck, even stop Global Warming while I am at it.#17- I wish American churches weren't so political and corporate.#18- I wish I had a *really* nice camera#19- I wish I spoke fluent Gaelic. #20- I wish I could time travel#21- I wish I could dance better#22- I wish I could play piano and/or cello...I'd settle for guitar#23- I wish advanced math and science were not mandatory for education#24- I want to fly#25- I want to be a mermaid or a faery...or an elf. At least for a day. Or two. Or a month. #26- I wish I had a million and one dollars to spend at Hobby Lobby, World Market and Borders. #27- I wish I could stop wishing. #28- And lastly....I really really really want to go to the beach. I want to sit on the warm sand and watch the sun rise over the waters as the waves sing to me.I was planning on posting some of my favorite pictures I took at WAMR (West African Missionary Retreat) two years ago, of the beach...but do to the lack of technological savvy I so wish for, I can't make it work and it's 12:00 at night. Why is it I always end up posting the day after I start writing??

Introduction

About Me

My name is Emma Jones. I spent 11 years as a Missionary Kid in Abengourou, Ivory Coast, West Africa and now live in the small, none-too exciting town of Rolla, Missouri. I'm an odd-ball. I see the world differently than others. I feel the need to see the world and change the world. I am a writer, a photographer and a traveler. So here is an insight into my writing, my photography and my travels....Mine is a restless soul.